Jewel of Mirkwood
by Cee
Summary: On his first mission after becoming a warden of Lorien, Rumil journeys with Haldir to Mirkwood. The woodland realm is filled with mystery, the greatest being the hidden daughter of Thranduil. Arienta's existence has become the thing of legend but her reality is a life of loneliness. Rumil and Arienta dream of adventure, but when they meet can they survive what follows?
1. Chapter 1

Author(s): Cee  
Rating:**M** (for later content)

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters from Lord of the Rings, or any other of Tolkien's work. However, any original characters, belong to me. Please do not use them without my permission.  
Pairing: Rumil/OFC  
Beta(s): Breg  
Feedback: Love it, thrive on it. It's the only payment I receive for these.  
Archiving: Only with the Author's permission

Summary: On his first mission after becoming a warden of Lorien, Rumil journeys with Haldir to Mirkwood. The woodland realm is filled with mystery and secrets, the greatest being the hidden daughter of Thranduil. Arienta's existence has become the thing of legend but her reality is a life of confinement and loneliness. Both Rumil and Arienta dream of adventure, but when they meet can they survive what follows? (Takes place shortly before the events of The Hobbit.)

Warnings: I take liberties with canon, i.e. elves sleep with their eyes closed, and the obvious Thranduil has a daughter thing. If you're a canon purist, this will make your brain hurt, you have been warned, so if you choose to continue it's not my fault, lol. There will be sexual content in later chapters. There will also be some violence and boat loads of angst.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 1

The golden afternoon sun heated the solitary road; the air was uncomfortably warm and a heavy stillness hung over the meadow on the outskirts of the dark and foreboding forest. Two elves on horseback made their way slowly down the dusty path, their cloaks coated with a dull layer of grime. The journey between their home, Lothlorien, and the shadowy kingdom of Mirkwood was neither short nor pleasant, but their goal finally lay before them.

Haldir, the taller and broader of the two, sighed as his brother Rumil began yet another chorus of his favorite traveling song, which to Haldir's dismay seemed to be an original composition entitled "Rumil the Mighty", judging from the number of times that phrase was repeated. Haldir rolled his eyes in a rare show of irritation. He understood that Rumil was young, and excited about his first mission as a warden of Lorien, but even he only had so much patience when his ears were under such an assault.

"Brother!" Haldir barked. Rumil paused, head tilted toward his brother. Haldir went on, his voice tighter than usual. "Is it truly necessary to sing the same song for the entire journey?"

"A fair question, Haldir." Rumil grinned his usual impish smile. "Indeed you are right to wish the song to end."

Haldir sighed audibly and settled more comfortably into the saddle. "Thank you, Rumil; I have hope for you yet."

"My thanks to you, brother. Such praise from you is a high honor indeed." Rumil's grin grew wider and for a moment he was silent. Then with dramatic flourish he took a deep breath and began singing again, another song detailing more of his greatly exaggerated adventures.

Haldir shook his head in frustration but quickly brightened as they rode under the first trees of Mirkwood."Thank the Valar!" he growled through his teeth. "Rumil, stop. We are entering the forest."

"How deep into the woods do the spiders dwell?" Rumil asked ending his song abruptly and scanning the forest as they entered into its green darkness.

His brother cocked a dark brow at him."Spiders are the least of your worries after that daft performance. The king will have sent Legolas to meet us – we should see him shortly."

"Not likely, unless I wish you to see me.'' A soft voice echoed from the shadows, edged with dark humor.

"Legolas." Haldir shot Rumil a glance as if to say 'I told you so'. "Well met." He kept his expression serene, though in truth he could not decide whether he was more annoyed by the fact that the Prince of Mirkwood had so easily caught them off guard, or that his brother had allowed it.

"And you, mellon nin." Legolas laughed, nimbly dropping from a nearby tree to lean leisurely against the trunk, arms folded across his chest. "Why do you frown so? I would think my former tutor would be pleased by the fact that I had taken his lessons to heart. A poor pupil I would be, who could not best even the mighty Marchwarden in my own kingdom."

"One day you will be in *my* realm and then you shall see how much you still have to learn." Haldir smirked. Then changing the subject he motioned to Rumil, who astonishingly enough had remained silent during this interlude. "Prince Legolas Thranduilion, this is my brother, Warden Rumil O'Lorien. A recent promotion." Haldir chuckled. "Very recent."

Rumil shot Haldir an angry glare. "I am not an elfling, brother; must you make me appear so?"

Haldir raised a brow. "You do quite well without any help from me."

"Ah, siblings! Are they not wonderful?"An amused smirk played across Legolas' face.

"That statement proves that you have none." Haldir retorted as Rumil snorted in agreement.

Legolas' smile faded and a strange look crossed his face. "You are right, my friend. I have no sis-siblings." Then he grew quiet.

Sensing the sudden rise of tension in the air, and puzzled by Legolas' strange mood, Haldir shifted in his saddle and looked to the road ahead. "We should be on our way. I am sure the King waits for us."

"Not to mention the fact that I am famished and tired of listening to the two of you." Rumil added urging his horse forward.

"It would seem the boy has spoken." Legolas said, clearly suppressing a smile.

"Warden, you mean!" Rumil shouted from up ahead, and broke into song.

Haldir pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Let us hasten. I fear for my brother's safety if he remains in my company much longer. I tell you now I will not be held accountable for my actions."

Legolas laughed and led his horse from the cover of some nearby trees. "As you say. Come, let us catch up with him before he ends up being dinner for a spider."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The mountain hall of the Mirkwood elves was a wild and beautiful sight to behold: arched walkways twisted through a vast underground palace of sylvan splendor that spoke of riches far beyond that of Lorien's golden halls. Green and gold lamps adorned with hammered metal leaves lined the freestanding walkways and walls, giving one the impression of sunlight filtering through shadowed forest boughs. Rumil stared in wonder as he followed Legolas and his brother through the mazes of Thranduil's keep. He understood now why it was said that no one could escape the hold of the woodland realms unless the King willed it.

The throne room was an enormous chamber lined with a multitude of intricately adorned pillars, heavy with carved and knotted vines that seemed to grow from the stone itself, giving the room a flavor of untamed timelessness. At the end of the great a hall a massive throne stood upon a dais, looking as though the roots of a great tree had been charmed and enchanted to form the graceful seat upon which the elven king, Thranduil of Mirkwood sat.

His gaze was stern, pride radiating from his stormy eyes. There was a coolness to his demeanor, and a subtle savagery. This was not an elf to be trifled with.

"Hail, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. You honor us this day; and for your kind hospitality we bear you the love and regard of the Lady of Lothlorien, and a gift from her as well." Haldir went to one knee, fist to heart.

After making his own obeisance, Rumil stepped forward eagerly and presented a small bundle to the elf at Thranduil's side.

The king inclined his regal head slightly. "It is a pleasure to receive guests from our kin of the Golden Wood. Rest; there will be time enough for business in the days that follow. I am sure you are both weary."

Thranduil waved an arm in a sweeping gesture of welcome. Following Haldir's lead, Rumil backed a few steps before moving to stand quietly along the wall to the left of the throne as the king tended to other business.

Rumil was bored and restless. When Haldir had told him that he would be coming to Mirkwood, he had envisioned adventure and excitement, not standing in a dim hall listening to court lackeys drone on and on about the taxing of river routes. His mind began to wander and he soon found himself staring at the design of a tapestry hanging behind the king's throne. As the business of court began to wind down Rumil continued his close scrutiny of the wall hanging until to his surprise he realized that it was looking back at him.

Rumil blinked in surprise and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Surely this was an illusion brought on by the lighting of the hall and his own fatigue.

But no . . .

Peeking out from behind the tapestry was the pale face of an elf maiden. Rumil gave her a subtle half smile and inclined his head almost imperceptively.

Her deep blue eyes went wide at his greeting, and her cheeks flushed an even rosier red. She glanced around the room as if fearful. Then shyly, she returned his smile and in turn nodded her own head, a wisp of golden hair falling free from the small silver circlet she wore.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Legolas stood at attention to the right of his father's throne. Though his demeanor remained impassive, he was rather annoyed by his father's quick dismissal of the Lorien elves. Had they been offended? He cast a worried glance in their direction. Haldir was a valued friend; moreover, the last thing Mirkwood needed was to alienate another ally, with the shadows growing once again.

It was at that moment that he saw Rumil smile and nod in his direction. Surprised, Legolas followed the other elf's gaze.

His eyes widened as he saw the face looking out from behind the tapestry. He glared at the young elleth, feeling both panic and anger. The moment she saw his face, hers disappeared. Legolas glanced at his father, hoping that he had not seen the eavesdropper.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Rumil wandered aimlessly from one end of their small room to the other while his brother lay back on his bed with closed eyes. Seeing Haldir's relaxed state did little to suppress the energetic younger elf's restlessness. He'd spent days on a dull journey only to trade the tedium of the road for that of being stuck indoors.

"How can you just sit there and do nothing?" Rumil asked, hating the confined feeling of this underground kingdom. "I long for the trees." He paused. "And a glimpse of one of those giant spiders would not go amiss either."

"If you had any sense at all you would think twice before wishing to meet a spider." Haldir replied, not even opening his eyes.

Rumil was in the process of formulating a scathing response to Haldir when the door opened and a servant entered, carrying trays of food and drink. Placing the trays on a table situated along the far wall, the servant busied himself with arranging the various dishes.

The younger elf shrugged, watching the servant. "If not a spider, then perhaps in the company of a lovely elleth would I find the excitement I crave. I noticed one during our audience with the king, one to whom I would be more than happy to devote an evening." Rumil turned back to his brother. "I caught her peeking out from the tapestry behind the throne."

There was a loud clang of dishes from where the servant stood with his back turned, trying to appear immensely focused on the mess he had just made. Haldir and Rumil shot a startled glance in the direction of the sudden commotion.

"As I was saying," Rumil continued, "she was quite possibly one of the loveliest ellith I have yet beheld."

Haldir rubbed his temple." Would it be possible for you to just once think with your head, instead of your lower regions?" He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and planted them firmly on the floor.

"My eyes are in my head, brother. But to give this elleth's beauty her due, I find both heads are in agreement." Rumil ignored the exasperation in his brother's voice.

"Please, sirs, if I may advise you in this?" The servant stepped forward, wringing his hands.

Rumil turned, his curiosity piqued. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Haldir had fully risen from the bed and stood waiting for the servant to continue. "And your advice would be?"

"I would advise the young master to forget the elleth he saw."

"Why is that?" Rumil took an involuntary step forward, as though challenged.

"Because the young master has seen the Jewel of Mirkwood, and to look upon her face, let alone to contemplate touching her, results in severe punishment."

"The Jewel of Mirkwood?" Hope of adventure and excitement once more surged within Rumil as his mind conjured up tales of mystery."What, or should I say who, is that?"

The elf glanced around nervously before speaking. "As you know the King's wife died in childbirth. The child, a daughter, was said to have died as well," he paused, "but many do not believe this to be true."

"Why would they have reason to doubt such a thing?" Haldir interrupted, his voice betraying his curiosity.

"Rumor has it that somewhere in the palace there is a secret door that leads to a series of rooms, and it is said that inside these rooms dwells the daughter who supposedly died. Many have reported seeing a mysterious elleth roaming the halls at night." The servant paused, now clearly aware of the interest his words held. "Some believe it to be the princess, while others say it is the spirit of Thranduil's wife come back to search for her lost child."

"And what do you believe?" Rumil asked, enthralled by the tale.

At this the servant sighed heavily and turned back to his duties. "I believe that King Thranduil guards his treasures fiercely, and that a daughter, born even as his wife died, would be one of his most precious."

"Well, well, what do you think of that, Haldir?" Rumil turned to his brother with triumphant excitement. "A hidden princess, or an unsettled spirit! Perhaps this visit will not be a complete waste of time after all."

"I think," began Haldir, "that it is a story made up by those who have too much time on their hands." He stopped and shot a disapproving look at the servant, then turned back to Rumil. "And believed only by those with little or no sense."

"Then how do you explain the mysterious maid I saw? Do not tell me you are not at least a little curious to know if the rumors are true."

Haldir crossed to where Rumil was standing and placed his hands firmly on the younger elf's shoulders. "No, I am not; indeed it would be most improper for either of us to harbor any such curiosity. We are guests of the royal household. I will not have you risking the success of our mission because of some fireside story told by a servant who is in dire need of learning his place." With the last remark Haldir looked back to the servant. "I believe you have done enough for this evening, you may go."

"As you will, sir, but mark my words; Mirkwood guards her secrets well – those of her King all the more so." The servant bowed and left the room.

Rumil watched in disappointment as the door closed. Then he turned back to his brother. "Honestly, Haldir you do know how to clear a room."

"Rumil, when are you going to grow up and realize that this is not a game? You are a warden of Lorien now and as such you are expected to behave with a certain level of decorum."

Rumil shook his brother off and crossed the room flopping onto his bed. "Perhaps if you did not always treat me as if I were no more than an elfling, I would behave with 'decorum'," Rumil mimicked Haldir's tone. "Between you and Orophin I am never allowed any freedom."

"Please, not this discussion again. I am tired of hearing the tale of the poor and tormented youngest brother," Haldir groaned. This was an old and frequent argument. "The simple truth is that you receive the treatment you earn. Were you to take a moment to examine your actions, you would understand why those around you respond as they do."

Rumil shot an angry glare at his brother, but decided that he would let the argument rest for the time being. Sometimes the quickest way to get what he desired with Haldir was to simply feign defeat. He schooled his face into a mask of contrite resignation. "You are right, brother. I will try to comport myself in a manner befitting a warden."

Haldir's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Rumil, you will not go in search of this Jewel of Mirkwood. That is an order. Should I find that you have been poking into any corners in search of hidden doors, mysterious maidens, or anything of the sort, your part in this mission will be over and you will be sent directly back to Lorien. Is that clear?" When there was no response he took a step closer. "Rumil, I have given you an order."

"Yes, Marchwarden. It is clear." Rumil rose from the bed and stood to attention, he knew better than to disobey a direct order from his commander, even if that commander was his brother." I will not search for any hidden doors or otherwise."

"What about hidden doors?" Legolas asked, walking into the room.

"One of your servants has fed my brother a fantastical tale of a hidden princess." Haldir answered quickly. "Perhaps you can convince my brother that it is untrue, as he seems bound and determined to ignore anything I tell him."

Legolas waved his hand dismissively, and when he spoke his tone was casual and unconcerned. "Such tales often float around court. It is merely silly gossip, usually a direct result of someone sampling a bit too much dorwinion."

"There. Now do you believe that this hidden elleth does not exist?" Haldir looked once more at Rumil then turned back to Legolas, dark brows drawn together. "Do you think anyone would miss him if he didn't return with me to Lorien?"

Legolas chuckled. "And leave him here for me to deal with? I think not." Rumil sighed, moving to the table to examine the food that had been brought in.

"As you say." Haldir replied. "What brought you to our quarters this evening?"

"My father asked me to apologize to you for the brevity of your audience earlier, and

to invite you and your brother to dine with us tonight."

"No apologies are needed, I understand that the business of running a kingdom is pressing." Haldir inclined his head.

"He thanks you for your understanding, I am sure." A shadow seemed to pass over Legolas' face for a moment. "Now I must go; there is some business to which I must attend. May I give my father your acceptance?"

"Yes, thank you, Legolas."

Rumil waited until the Mirkwood prince had left the room before speaking, mouth full of some delicacy he could not name. "You know that apology was from Legolas and not the king, don't you?" The younger Warden swallowed, gesturing with a piece of fruit. "Why have servants bring us this if he was planning on inviting us to dine?"

"Indeed," Haldir's expression was thoughtful. "The shadows that grow in this forest lay a heavy burden on his majesty. One must perhaps overlook his manner."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Legolas hurried through the corridors, turning here and there until he came to the part of the palace that housed the family chambers. He paused and looked up and down the corridor; when positive that he was alone, he stepped up to the wall and muttered a brief elvish spell. At once the shape of a door appeared and swung inward. Stepping into a dimly lit hall, Legolas began to stride purposefully towards a door at the far end. He knocked in the rhythm that his father had commanded to be used for the week. The door swung open to reveal the wrinkled face of an old woman.

"And what brings my young Prince down so early in the evening?" the woman rasped.

"Ioraweth, I am two centuries older than you," Legolas reminded the woman.

"Ah, but you are young in ways that I never was." The woman smiled warmly before stepping aside. "I warn you, she is in one of her more difficult moods today."

"Perhaps you should save your warnings for her; I am not in the kindest of moods myself." Legolas stepped past the old woman and into the next room. He glanced around the richly decorated chambers, searching for his quarry.

The walls were carved with intricate forest scenes, the floor covered with a soft carpet of deep red. Situated next to a shelf built into the walls and filled with books, were two tall backed chairs of dark wood and cushioned with silk pillows. Between these was a small round table. To the right was an arched doorway to which Legolas quickly crossed, entering a room containing a large rectangular table with three chairs around it and a setting of fine dishes. To the right of the table was a tall counter with several bottles of wine and glasses situated atop of it. At the opposite side was yet another doorway, this one leading to a bedroom.

"Arienta, where are you?" Legolas asked, annoyed.

"In here." The response came from the direction of the bedroom.

He crossed the second room with purposeful strides until he stood in the doorway of the large and lavish bedroom. Inside a golden haired elleth lay across a large bed, her head propped up in her hands as she read a small book. She was dressed in a deep blue velvet gown, her hair arranged loosely atop her head with silver pins carved into the likeness of butterflies, a few random curls fell gently down her back and shoulders.

"What brings my dearest brother on this lovely evening?" she asked, her eyes remaining fixed on the book before her. "I term it lovely for convention's sake, having no true basis for comparison, as well you know."

"We had visitors today, from Lothlorien." Legolas replied leaning against the door frame.

"Oh, did we?" Arienta continued her determined scrutiny of the pages of her book. "I assume your use of 'we' is also for convention's sake, as they can be in no way visitors of mine."

"Stop deflecting, Arienta. We both know you saw them in the throne room."

At this the elleth flicked a glance at her brother. "I am sorry, brother dearest, but I do not understand what you mean. How can we both know what I saw or did not see? Can you see thought my eyes now?"

Legolas straightened and stalked towards the bed angrily. "Do not play coy with me, Arienta. I saw you, as did one of our guests."

"Oh, what *you* saw. That is a different matter." Arienta looked at her brother with wide eyes and a beguiling smile, ending her game of innocence. She closed her book. "I must say, they were both rather handsome. A nice change from you, from my point of view."

He ignored the barb. "So you admit you were there! Do you realize what Father would do if he knew that you had been out of these rooms, that someone saw you?" Legolas shouted, what little patience he had evaporating. If their father knew, the consequences for his sister would be dire, more dire than she could possibly understand. Thranduil's fabled temper… was no mere fable, as Legolas knew well, and the thought of what the king might inflict as punishment was a fearful thought.

Arienta glared at him. "Do not shout at me, Legolas! You are not the one who must remain hidden away day after day, with only mortals that wither and die! You are not the one who cannot roam the forest paths and feel the wind on your face, or the warmth of the sunlight! Day after day I sit in these rooms alone and watch the world outside pass me by." She stopped for a moment, meeting his eyes with a stormy glare. "Yes, I was there. For just one moment I wanted to feel as though I were a part of the world and not just a shadow!" She grabbed the book and stomped past him out of the room.

She was right. Legolas let out a breath, uncrossed his arms and followed her into the sitting room where she was returning the book to its proper place on the shelf. "I am sorry, Arienta. I know how badly you long to be free. I will speak to Father as soon as the Lorien elves leave."

"How long will that be, Legolas? I have waited for your help in vain already. What excuse will you find to remain silent after they have left?" A tear began to roll down her cheek.

Legolas' throat tightened and he quickly moved to comfort his sister. "There will be no excuse this time, little bird. Despite what you think, Father loves you very much, as do I. He only wishes you to be safe."

Arienta turned and let Legolas enfold her in his arms, burying her face on his shoulder. "I believe you, Legolas, and I do love and honor him. It is just hard to endure this captivity."

Legolas gave her a tight squeeze and then held her at arm's length. "I promise I will talk to him, but you must wait until the visitors are gone. You know as well as I that he will never agree as long as there are strangers within the forest borders." Arienta continued to weep. It pained the Prince to see his sister's lovely face marred by grief. "Come, how would it be if I sneak you out tonight? I cannot promise more than a few hours, but it would give you the chance to feel your much-desired wind upon your face."

Arienta wiped her tears away and smiled. "Legolas, you truly are good to me. That would be more wonderful than words can express."

"Then I will return tonight after father has retired for the evening. Until then, please no more unaccompanied outings." Legolas lifted his hand and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Do we have an accord?"

"We do. I promise, no further outings unless you are with me." Arienta offered her hand to Legolas, who shook it firmly.

"I must go, but I'll return as soon as it is safe for us to leave the palace." Legolas kissed her hand and walked to the door, smiling at her before closing it behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Arienta straightened her cloak as she anxiously paced the sitting room floor, the hours dragging by. Well had she learned that no matter how much time went by, waiting never became any easier. It seemed to her that her whole existence had been nothing more than waiting, though for what she did not know, could not say. Her father showed no signs of relenting, and yet… was she a fool to hold out a glimmer of hope that one day her incarceration might end? At last she heard the sound of footsteps; moments later her brother's head popped around the corner of the door, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"I see you are ready," Legolas observed, an amused smile on his face. "Have you decided what you would like to do this night?"

Arienta met his smile with a grin of her own. She shifted her cloak to reveal the small, elegant bow skillfully hidden beneath the folds of fabric. "A bit of target practice would do much to alleviate my tension." Her eyes darted to the hall for a moment."What of Ioreweth? The last time you took me out she very nearly caught me hiding my bow."

"Has my sister lost faith in me?" Legolas asked, still smiling. "Do not let it trouble your mind. I have told her that I will stay with you tonight, so that she might rest. It is no more than the truth, as I shall be with you. Just… not here."

"Ever the honest and true prince." Arienta chuckled softly, walking towards the door. "Come on, then; there are targets waiting for my arrows."

They made their way carefully through the halls, hoods pulled up around their faces. There were a few tense moments when a drunken elf wandering the corridors made a grab for Arienta with amorous intent; before Legolas was required to kill him, the elf – Rothelion was his name, the prince made a mental note - happily passed out, sliding down the wall, a foolish leer on his otherwise unremarkable face. The siblings slipped silently through the palace gates and crept down into the stables. Legolas swiftly saddled the horses while Arienta went to one of the haylofts and retrieved her hidden quiver, full of arrows.

They rode slowly and cautiously at first, their mounts stepping high and quiet; but as soon as they were no longer within view of the night watch, Arienta threw back her hood and urged her horse to a fast canter. She closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation of the night air on her face, the rushing of the wind past her ears and through her hair, making her feel alive, rejuvenated. She glanced back at her brother with impish determination. "If you intend to keep your promise to Ioreweth I suggest you keep up."

"Is that a challenge?" Legolas' tone was playful yet determined.

Arienta urged her horse to greater speed, then called back over her shoulder. "On the contrary, it will not be a challenge for me at all! Last one to our practice field has to set out the targets!"

They raced through the forest on one of the older roads. Legolas' skill in the saddle far outstripped his sister's though he had done his best to tutor her in secret; but her lead was sizeable, and in the end they were forced to call it a draw. Laughingly they shared the task of pulling the targets from their hiding place in the center of an enormous hollow log, arranging them in a variety of places. Some stood stationary on the ground, while others hung from low-hanging branches. When all the targets were set up the two elves moved to the center of the small glade that was their makeshift practice field.

Arienta closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, greedily filling her lungs with the night air, allowing it to bring quiet to her mind. She reached over her shoulder and slid an arrow from her quiver; opening her eyes, she focused on the nearest target, a round piece of thick leather that twisted and spun in the breeze, hanging from a nearby tree.

"Now remember what I said." Legolas stood a few paces behind her. "Aim where your target is going, not where it is."

She nodded slowly and studied the movement of her battered quarry, making note of the direction of the wind and how the branch swayed to and fro with each new gust. Her world narrowed to a pinpoint as she pulled back the string, adjusting her posture minutely before releasing upon a soft exhale. Her arrow struck the target with a satisfying thud. Arienta smiled triumphantly: the arrow was firmly lodged a few inches from the center of the leather target.

Legolas stepped forward to examine her work. "Not a bad shot." He pulled the arrow from the leather. "But even a few inches from your intended mark can be the difference between life and death."

"And I suppose you can do better?" Arienta challenged, crossing her arms, a dimple appearing beside her cheeky grin. She knew it was a ridiculous dare – of course he could best her, her brother's skill with a bow was nigh-legendary, even for a Mirkwood elf. Yet she could never resist baiting him, any more than he could resist rising to the bait, it seemed.

In a fluid motion Legolas drew an arrow, spun round and hit the target furthest from them, his arrow finding its mark directly in the center. "See for yourself." He turned and gestured to his arrow, one dark brow raised. "Your turn, sister."

Arienta reached for another arrow with a laugh. Without further argument she took aim a second time and let her arrow fly. This time her shot was true, and centered.

"Well done!" Legolas gave her a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. "You have a firm grasp of shooting a moving target, but what if you are the one moving? Can you still hit your mark when on the run?"

"Perhaps," Arienta replied, plucking her arrow from the target and gently smoothing the fletching. "Shall we give it a try?"

Legolas smiled approvingly. "Indeed."

For the next hour Legolas had Arienta running from one end of the clearing to the next, shouting out various commands: "drop!", "roll!", "step back!" By the end of the session Arienta was panting and exhausted. There was little doubt in her mind that by morning she would be quite sore from her exertions, but she was still unready to return to the confinement of her chambers.

"Shall we share a repast before returning?" She carefully placed her arrows back into their quiver. "We could go to our stream for a little while."

Her brother smiled. "It is your night, sister. If a picnic by the stream is what you desire than so it shall be."

Arienta loved the wood at night. Most would have feared the forest at this hour, but not they. They were true children of Mirkwood, and as such could understand the voices of the forest and feel her moods. The scent of the trees was deep and musty, vastly old and no less comforting. Little particles of dust danced and sparkled in the few rays of moonlight that pierced the thick foliage of the trees, an airy peace descending over the forest.

The banks of the stream were littered with flowers: tiny blue forget-me-nots and large velvety black roses that were unique to Mirkwood. As Legolas unpacked the small bundle of food, Arienta pulled the pins from her hair and slipped off her boots and stockings. The dewy grass felt soft and cool beneath her unshod feet. She let out a sigh of contentment and closed her eyes for a moment relishing the sensation. As she allowed herself to feel the energy and rhythm of the forest she laughed and began to spin and dance towards the brook.

When she turned back to face her brother he was watching her with a sad smile. It was an expression she had seen before. Despite his anger earlier, Arienta knew well that Legolas despised her confinement. He took great risk in sneaking her out of the palace, and truly, if it had not been for what little freedom he had provided, she would have long ago given into the desperation of her loneliness.

"Come, brother, let us forget our woes and sit by the water for a time." At her words Legolas seemed to cast away whatever shadows lurked in his mind. Together they laid out their small feast. When they had finished eating, Arienta gathered handfuls of forget-me-nots and settled back on the ground next to her brother.

"Legolas, tell me of our mother." Arienta began idly weaving her collection of flowers into a crown of blue and green, her eyes never leaving her small project.

"She was very beautiful," he began, but Arienta turned such a direful frown upon him that he stuttered to a stop. "What is it?"

She studied him in disgust. "For Eru's sake, Legolas, her portraits tell me as much; and I would not care if she had the face of a troll. I want to know who she was, not what she looked like. Is that truly the first thing that leaps to mind?"

"I…" Legolas shifted uncomfortably and looked into the dark trees. "You have a point, Ari. It is only…" He looked at her, his eyes glinting very blue in the half-light of the moon. "It is less painful to disturb the surface of a wound when the damage runs so deep." He sighed. "She loved this forest, and was saddened when the shadow came to dwell here. I remember that she would take me to this very clearing and tell me of the elven kings of old, or of the Valar. She would weave crowns of flowers and put them on my head." He chuckled as Arienta did the same. "So much about you reminds me of her. You have the same spirit. Father sees it too."

At the mention of her father Arienta's smile faded. Her freedom was only temporary; soon she would have to return to her rooms, where the moonlight and flowers were little more than a sweet dream. "He blames me for her death."

"No." Legolas reached for one of the flowers in her lap. "It is true that he grieves for mother, but that does not lessen his love for you." Legolas twisted the tiny blue flower in his fingers, and then weaving it through her hair, he continued. "Arienta, you are the reason he does not give into that grief."

She shook her head. "He may not have faded, but he lives always in the shadows of grief." Arienta tossed a single flower into the brook, watching if disappear downstream. Stillness and silence grew between them.

"I wish you could have known him as he was," Legolas' voice was quiet and heavy with emotion.

Arienta glanced at him. Legolas' face was a mask of guilt and grief. She brushed the flowers from her lap and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. "I do too, dear one." She continued to hold him tightly, keeping the darkness at bay until the quiet of the night was broken by voices from the nearby path. They pulled back and looked at one another, eyes wide.

"Stay here. I will go divert them." Legolas stood up and disappeared through the bushes, leaving Arienta alone.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

Rumil made his way easily through the forest canopy. There would be consequences when he returned; Haldir would be livid to find his brother gone after the promises he had extracted, but Rumil could not remain in the stifling atmosphere of the palace any longer. The truth was that he simply needed to be in the open air and starlight. In Lorien he could see the stars from his talan, night freshets blowing gently across his skin, easing him into reverie. Here, in this kingdom under the earth there was too much stillness, too much silence.

The trees of Mirkwood grew so densely that the young Warden quickly discovered he was able to move through the forest without ever setting foot on the ground. Delighted, he traveled this way for some time before coming to a small tributary of the river that ran through the mighty forest. He followed the stream until he came to a small clearing that provided him with a window to the stars above. With a contented sigh, he situated himself comfortably among the large boughs, eyes turned gratefully to the star-dappled sky.

In his mind's eye he could imagine all too clearly his brother's wrath upon finding him missing; but Haldir was not like Rumil. Haldir was iron, strong and unyielding; Rumil was… truth be told he did not yet know what he was. But even iron could snap if it went untempered.

Just about the time he was admitting to himself that his metaphor had gotten away from him, Rumil heard the sound of voices coming from the ground below him. He immediately recognized one of them as Legolas, but the other was the soft voice of an elleth. Rumil's first thought was that he had stumbled across Legolas on a romantic tryst and he frantically searched for a way to escape without incurring the wrath of yet another above him; but when the voices stopped and he glimpsed Legolas moving towards the nearby path, Rumil's curiosity was piqued and he began to inch his way soundlessly towards the ground.

Or at least that was his intent, but he should have known that the forest of Mirkwood would never betray its prince. His foot slipped, his grip faltered, and in a flurry of leaves and colorful curses Rumil fell without ceremony into a large bush heavy with blossoms, many-petaled and black as midnight.

He struggled to gain his feet but halted at a single word. "Stop."

There was an arrow leveled at his forehead. Rumil kept a careful eye upon it, slowly raising his hands to show he meant no threat, and then uncrossed his eyes to focus upon the archer, and nearly fell over again.

His breath caught in his throat as he realized that it was the same elleth he had seen before in the throne room. Her hair hung like spun gold in the moonlight, her face drawn in fierce lines that did not mar her beauty one whit. Her bow shifted, the arrow now aimed straight at his heart. Rumil shook his head. "Am I dreaming?" He did not recognize the voice as his own, so husky had it become.

She looked at him more closely, seeming as thunderstruck as he. "You!"

He fisted his hand over his heart, though she did not lower her bow. "My lady. I am Rumil, Warden of the Golden Wood." He glanced down at the arrow. "Shoot me if you must; I will die happy, having met you." A broken stem with a single dark bud upon it clung to his hair and hung rakishly over one eye; he plucked the flower free and offered it to her with a flourish.

The corner of her mouth quirked as she lowered her bow. "Do not be an idiot."

Rumil grinned. "My brother would tell you that is an impossibility. I prefer to think of it as an unlikely circumstance." He rolled easily to his feet; she stepped backward abruptly, her expression still guarded, and he moved more slowly. "I mean you no harm, my lady. Might I know your name?"

An urgent whisper susurrated through the trees. "Arienta! To the horses, swiftly. I have led them off, but they may return."

She started, her expression fearful. "My brother returns – you must go!"

"Brother? Legolas is – ? I do not understand." She pushed at his chest; Rumil stood, unmoving.

"Please, you must! If my father -"

A nearby rustle of leaves, barely heard; a murmur, soft but imperative. "Arienta! Come now!"

Rumil pulled himself up onto a branch, dropping his own voice to a whisper. "At least tell me your name."

She hesitated, then abruptly answered him. "I am called Arienta. Now go!"

Arienta. Rumil grinned. "I shall see you again, my lady." Swiftly he climbed into the concealing canopy and hid himself from view just as Legolas burst into the clearing below.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As Rumil made his way back to the rooms he shared with Haldir, he knew that reverie would not come to him this night. He paused at the door; there was no light from within. Quietly, he pushed it open and tiptoed into the room, making a quick stop at the table where the fruits and cheese from earlier sat. He helped himself to an ample sampling of each before settling on his bed.

He replayed the meeting with Arienta over and over in his mind. The Jewel of Mirkwood did exist, and what was more, she was a beautiful, fiery maid! He was torn – on the one hand, he fervently wished to tell Haldir of his discovery; but was unsure of his brother's receptiveness. Rumil glanced at the older Warden's sleeping form and shook his head. It would be better to simply forget the whole thing. While he had been true to his word and had not intentionally sought answers to the mystery, Haldir would not see it that way.

It was pointless to wonder. What could he hope for anyway? If Arienta was truly the hidden daughter of Mirkwood's mercurial king, a mere Warden of Lorien could not seriously be of any interest to her, could he? And any attraction he himself might harbor would surely be frowned upon, if not outright punished.

And yet… Logical thought soon gave way to a vision of enchanting blue eyes, honey-golden tresses, and the sweet lilt of her voice. If he had not touched her, spoken to her, he would all too readily believe she was the creation of his overactive imagination. He popped a grape into his mouth and leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall. The first stanzas of a song began to form in Rumil's mind.

He remained lost in his music until the first rays of dawn began to drift through the window. In the dim morning light, Rumil could see that a note had been slipped under the door. He leapt to his feet: could Arienta have sent it? Eagerly, awkwardly, he tore open the envelope, his heart skipping a beat with anticipation, only to feel his stomach drop when he realized it was no more than a breakfast invitation issued from the king. With a sigh he placed the letter on the table and stepped into the small washing room that was attached to their apartments.

He had just finished cleaning up when he heard Haldir beginning to stir in the next room.

"Good morning, March Warden!" Rumil jovially remarked, strolling casually into the room. "Get up, get up! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the King requests our presence at breakfast."

"Since when is it your custom to rise with the sun?" Haldir asked, sitting up groggily.

"Is it my fault that you have grown lazy in your old age? Perhaps my youth will count for something on this mission after all." Rumil couldn't resist the barb.

"Perhaps," Haldir muttered, his voice still bearing traces of reverie. He rubbed a hand over his face. "At what time is our presence expected?"

"An hour from now." Rumil gestured to the parchment.

Haldir gingerly picked up the parchment and torn envelope. "Was it opened by a warg?" He waved the tattered paper with amusement.

Rumil, shrugged, casually flicking a bit of earth from his boot before putting it on. In the light of day, with his brother before him, Rumil found that his justifications for disobedience were no more than flimsy excuses. Despite Haldir's stern exterior, if it had not been for his willingness to take Rumil in as an elfling when their parents sailed to the Undying Lands, he would have been forced to go with them, and Rumil had no wish to begin the day by disappointing his brother yet again. He owed Haldir much, and starting his first mission with a lie was hardly the way to repay him.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . **

Arienta woke with a soft smile, which dimmed slightly at her body's protest when she stretched. Despite her soreness, everything seemed brighter and lovelier than it had in many years. Meeting the young Warden of the Golden Wood had stirred something within her. Had it truly happened? It seemed like something from one of her books. Her eyes slid to the table at the side of her bed where the bloom Rumil had given her stood alone in a tall slender vase. No, she shook her head: it had not been a dream. A sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to relax back into her pillows and replay their meeting in her mind.

"Milady! You are not even out of bed yet!" Ioraweth's voice jarred her from her pleasant recollection. "Your father awaits you. What will he think?"

Arienta's eyes flashed open, a surge of annoyance washing away her mood. Of all the mornings for an impromptu meeting, this was the last one she'd wished to have interrupted. "I will be there momentarily." She closed her eyes, huffing out a breath in exasperation.

"Dress quickly." Ioraweth replied shortly, tossing an armful of satin onto the bed.

Arienta walked behind the changing screen and began to remove her robe and nightdress; again a smile found its way to her face, but was quickly replaced with a frown when she saw the gown that she'd been given. It was a soft, blushing, pale pink, with a gold trimmed neckline and ridiculously belled sleeves: something more suited to a child than to the young woman she had become. Ioraweth was her father's lieutenant, and seemed just as determined to retain the illusion that Arienta was a helpless elfling. Again the feeling of trapped hopelessness settled over her. Last night had been a wonderful night, but that was just what it was, a single night in a lifetime of solitude.

_No!_ she thought to herself. _I will not give in!_

"Where is my daughter?" Thranduil's voice drifted from her bedroom door.

Hastily Arienta pulled the dress down over her body with a determined tug and smoothed the wrinkles before stepping from behind the screen. "Good morrow, father." She gave him a deep curtsey.

Thranduil gazed at her. "You grow more beautiful by the day," he observed, bright eyes flicking over her dispassionately. "I have brought a gift for you."

"Ada, I am no longer an elfling. You need not bring me a gift whenever you come. I am happy just to spend time with you," she returned mechanically. The truth was that she grew tired of the silly ritual, and of receiving gifts that her father thought she wanted, when really they were only what he wanted her to want.

He produced a small box wrapped in silver cloth and handed it to her. "This will please you." It was a statement of his expectation, she knew, and she would do well to heed it.

Arienta sighed inwardly as she accepted the proffered gift, schooling her features into an appropriate expression of pleased anticipation. She carefully untied the ribbon and removed the silvery fabric, revealing a velvet box roughly the size of a book. She lifted the lid and stared down at a silver tiara with a single tear-shaped emerald dangling from the middle. "Ada, it is beautiful." She smiled up at her father.

"A crown for the princess of Mirkwood." Thranduil took the tiara from her and placed it on her head. "We shall walk in my private gardens today. I have seen to it that none will disturb us before my morning repast." He led her out of the bedroom.

The king's private garden was underground, fed sunlight through a series of mirrored shafts in the ceilings and walls. When Arienta was a child he had had a tunnel constructed that led from her rooms to the garden, and would often bring her there to walk among the flowers. The floor of the vast cavern was covered in a blanket of soft moss and a profusion of blooms, each arranged to best show to advantage, each carefully kept and tidied and groomed. Sedate stone paths wound their way through bushes and beds, and around several small fountains. In the center of the garden was a large willow that stood guard beside a pond. Even the fish were orderly, swimming in proscribed circles, their bright gold scales flashing with uniform beauty in the thin light. It was a beautiful garden. Arienta hated it.

Thranduil and Arienta walked the paths silently, the king nodding his haughty satisfaction. After a while they paused. Thranduil looked down at her. "Do you wish to go back to your rooms?"

"That is what troubles me, father. I do not wish to return to my rooms." Arienta cleared her throat. "Please, Ada, I wish so much to go outside. I am a child no longer. Why must I remain hidden still?"

Thranduil pulled away slightly, lifting his chin. "Daughter, you know my answer to these questions." Arienta began to turn away from him, but he pulled her back. "The forest is a dangerous place. The world is a dangerous place. I do not wish you to be subjected to that. Here, you are safe."

"Ada, I know that there are dangers, but is there not beauty as well?"

"Arienta, you will trust me in this. You will find nothing but heartache and sadness in the world outside."

"M-Mother loved the forest; it cannot be all bad if she loved it so." Arienta looked at him imploringly, searching his face. Immediately she knew she had made a mistake.

Thranduil turned away. "Mirkwood is no longer the forest your mother knew; she would weep to see it now." His movements stilled, as though life itself had left him. "It is time for you to return to your rooms. I am to break my fast with visitors from Lothlorien." His lip curled slightly upon the last word.

"As you will." Arienta looked away at the mention of the Lorien elves, afraid he might detect her secret even now. Her gaze fell on a nearby bush, its midnight blooms sparking the memory of Rumil, and a plan began to form in her mind. "Ada, do you have your dagger with you?"

Thranduil turned back to her with a puzzled expression. "Yes, but what use would you have of such a thing?"

"I wish to give you a gift of my own." She gestured to the roses. "Something beautiful to adorn your dining table as you enjoy your meal. Thus I will be with you in spirit."

Thranduil's expression softened and his shoulders relaxed as he reached into the folds of his robes to retrieve the dagger he kept at his waist. With a well-schooled expression of daughterly devotion she took the knife and hastened to cut several stems of the onyx Mirkwood roses.

"For you, dear Ada." She presented him with the dark bouquet. "I pray they will bring thoughts and memories of me."

He accepted her gift with a slight smile and a regal inclination of his head. "Come, I will escort you back to your rooms."

"A moment." Arienta tensed. Would the roses be enough to remind Rumil of their meeting? Would he realize they were meant for him? She had to be sure. "I would have a bouquet for myself. Please. I will only be a moment."

Thranduil paused, brows drawn together; but after a moment he relented. "I will send Ioraweth to you directly." He paused, to add diffidently, "Enjoy your time amongst the blossoms, Arienta." With that the king swept from the garden, leaving his daughter looking after him thoughtfully. As soon as the door slid shut behind him, Arienta produced a small dagger of her own and set to work, cutting several more of the dark roses.

Upon returning to her rooms she sent Ioraweth on an errand, claiming that she desired several specific and very involved dishes for her breakfast. Arienta dropped her armful of blossoms on the table and hurried to her room to exchange the pink gown for a simple gray and blue one, something much less eye-catching, and far more suited to her tastes. Then, very carefully, and with a single rose in her hands, she crept down the hall and out of her chambers to the guest quarters.

The halls in this wing of the palace were usually quiet, but on this occasion Arienta heard two voices drifting towards her. She had only the space of a heartbeat to slip behind a tall pillar before Rumil and the other Lorien elf rounded a corner and passed where she had been standing scant moments before.

The Lorien elf truly was as handsome as she remembered, she thought to herself as she gazed in the direction they'd gone. With renewed determination she continued down the hall and tot he only guest rooms currently in use. Once inside she paused for a moment, trying to decide where to leave the flower. Her original thought was to place it on his pillow, but with no way to discern which bed was his, that plan would not work. In the end she settled on placing it on the chest between the beds, before hurrying out of the room and back towards her own.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

Rumil sat at the table with Haldir and Legolas as they waited for the king to arrive. His attention had begun to drift as the other two discussed the conditions of the woodland kingdoms. In truth, his presence at this breakfast was little more than a formality, and the fatigue of travel, paired with lack of reverie, had begun to catch up with him. He leaned back in his chair and stared dreamily at the vase of black roses that a servant had brought in moments earlier. Leaning forward he ran his finger along the petals of the nearest flower, thoughts of Arienta dancing through his mind. "I have never seen roses such as these." He spoke aloud, interrupting the conversation.

Both Legolas and Haldir paused and turned to him, as if they had forgotten that he was in the room. "They only grow here in Mirkwood." Legolas replied. "And only in the lands yet untouched by evil."

"They are very beautiful." Rumil remarked pulling one from the vase and smelling it.

"What is this sudden interest in botany?" Haldir asked, a look of curious amusement on his face.

Rumil just smiled and shrugged. "If you do not smell the roses, how can you be reminded of beauty?"

"I did not realize you were such a poet, brother."

"The treasures under the trees of this forest have opened a new world to me, Haldir." He continued to look at the rose with wonder.

The great doors at the end of the hall swung inward on their mighty hinges, and Thranduil entered, resplendent in long gray robes. His demeanor was different from that which they had seen the night before. There was something near a smile upon his face.

Legolas, Haldir, and Rumil stood as the king crossed the room and settled himself in the chair situated at the head of the table. "A good day to you all," Thranduil said kindly as a servant carried in a tray of food and began serving him."I trust you found your rooms to your liking?" The king's bright gaze fell upon Haldir and Rumil.

"The rooms are wonderful, milord, we thank you for your generosity." Haldir it was who spoke; Rumil merely gave the king a nod, hoping to escape further scrutiny. At a gesture from the king they settled back in their seats. Rumil fixed his eyes resolutely on the table, hoping Thranduil could not detect the loathing within him. How could one who was supposed to be so wise lock away a creature as lovely as the elleth he had met last night?

He did not escape the king's probing gaze. "Do you fear me, young one?" Thranduil's incisive question did little to soothe Rumil's roiling emotions.

"No, majesty," he answered, though he did not find himself convincing.

The king began to chuckle, mistaking Rumil's short answer for intimidation. "Please, be at ease. This breakfast is an informal one."

Rumil glanced up as the king turned his attention to Haldir and began discussing the day to day happenings of Mirkwood. The other three elves at the table seemed to have forgotten Rumil's existence, for which he was very thankful. Again his eyes strayed to the roses, and he smiled to himself.

"My lord, I was hoping that we could further discuss the sharing of the bounty of our lands, as my Lady has charged me to do." Haldir's voice interrupted Rumil's thoughts.

"Forgive me, March Warden, but I am afraid that there is an urgent matter I must attend to this day. Perhaps tomorrow." His tone brooking no argument, Thranduil rose. "In fact I am already running late. You will forgive me."

Rumil watched his brother, who bore an expression of consternation as the ruler of Mirkwood left the room. Undoubtedly, Haldir had hoped to begin addressing the business of their mission and had been summarily thwarted. Despite himself, Rumil felt optimism begin to rise. The more Haldir was put off, the longer they would have in Mirkwood. Once again his gaze landed upon the roses. Rumil had made a promise that he would see Arienta again, and the longer their mission took, the more time he had to make good on his word.

No matter what stood in his way.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:****Apologies for the delay in posting this. I was having internet issues and the chapter got lost in transit to the beta.**

**Chapter 5**

As soon as it was late enough for her to claim fatigue without arousing suspicion, Arienta relieved Ioraweth for the night, hoping desperately that she would be able to escape the confines of the castle early enough to leave her trail of clues for Rumil to find. She stood with her ear to her bedroom door, nervously twisting the soft dark green fabric of the riding gown she wore. It had once belonged to her mother and after much cajoling, she had convinced her father to allow her to keep it. The instant she heard the soft thud of the door closing, Arienta crept out and gathered the remainder of the roses she had taken from the garden.

Her heart was racing with a mix of excitement, nervousness and absolute terror. She had never gone outside on her own before; Legolas had always been with her. She felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of deceiving her brother, but she could hardly have asked him to facilitate her plan to meet with the young warden from Lothlorien.

Reaching the door to the outside hall, she turned and looked around the familiar rooms. She felt a sudden sense of trepidation: perhaps he would not come, perhaps she would be left waiting in the forest, alone and feeling foolish.

No! She would not allow insecurities to add to the bars of her prison. Arienta steeled her resolve and, with her head held high, she stepped out of her chambers and slipped into the waiting night.

As she came to the doors that led out to the forest, she pulled the petals from one of the roses in her hands, letting them flutter to the floor at the bottom of the exit. She glanced around before stepping out and moving down the path toward the stream where she and Legolas had picnicked the night before. Every now and again she would stop, pull apart another bud and scatter petals on the ground, like tiny, black pools of velvet.

When she came to the small path that led to the clearing by the brook, she placed the single remaining rose in the middle of the main road, its blossom angled toward her intended meeting place. Then, not feeling entirely safe in the open by herself, Arienta settled at the base of the tree from which Rumil had fallen the night before, hoping that she would not be left waiting.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

Rumil still clutched the rose that he had found in his room as he scanned the forest path for more of the black rose petals. At first he had not been sure that the rose had been from Arienta, but upon finding the sprinkling of petals in the hall by the doors, he had allowed himself to hope. Now he found himself swiftly travelling down the forest paths, daring to dream that she awaited him.

When he came upon the single rose, he gathered it up, along with a spattering of purple and blue flowers that grew on the roadside. As he entered the clearing, he scanned the area, disappointment beginning to cloud his mind. Had he been mistaken? He sighed and began to pace restlessly.

In truth, he had no idea if Arienta would be here again, but knew he would wait as long as even a glimmer of hope remained. The longer he waited, the more he became convinced that he had made a total fool of himself, and that she was more than likely sitting in some comfortable and luxurious room, not sparing a moment's thought for him. He silently berated himself for being such a fool as to think that a creature of such loveliness would even think twice about him.

"I see you got my message." Arienta's voice drifted to him from the bushes, startling him.

Recovering quickly, Rumil offered the bouquet to her and took her hand as she stepped into the clearing, kissing it gently. "My lady, it is as much a pleasure to see you this night as it was last."

"Please, call me Ari. I must say, your arrival was somewhat more graceful tonight." She dimpled at him.

"Ah, yes. I make it a habit to only drop in on occasion." Rumil chuckled, straightening his tunic. "But in truth, I think many would fall at your feet." Arienta's cheeks flushed a deeper rose, as she nervously tucked an errant curl behind her delicately pointed ear, looking away. Rumil reached over and turned her face back to his. "I am sorry, my lady. I did not intend to make you uncomfortable."

"You did not." Arienta replied, meeting his gaze full on. "You are very sweet, Rumil."

"Am I?" He asked, his voice growing husky. She didn't answer but continue to meet his gaze, he could tell she was unsure of what to do. He began to lean forward.

"Yes, the - the flowers, it was sweet of you to give them to me." Arienta shifted her gaze to the bouquet she clutched, and took a step back. She turned away and walked towards the water's edge. "You must forgive me, I am unaccustomed to meeting new people. I'm afraid that I hadn't thought much past arranging for us to meet."

"Truth be told, I had not planned beyond my own arrival. I was not entirely certain you would even be here." Rumil followed her to the bank and then knelt down to play with the water, sending little ripples down its babbling course. "If my brother knew that I was here, he would have more than a few stern words for me."

"In that, we share something." She smiled, settling next to him to dip her own fingers in the water. "I hope that I have not caused you trouble."

"Haldir's temper will cool." Rumil shrugged. "It always does; and at any rate, he did not order me indoors this night."

Silence descended over the two of them. Rumil shifted, feeling more awkward as the pause went on. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he flicked his hand and sent a few drops of water flying up at Arienta. She flinched back slightly, and then giving him a playful glare, sent a handful of water in his direction. He ducked but was caught off guard by the second spray of water that she sent his way.

He laughed as it hit him in the face, throwing his arms up in defeat. "I surrender!"

"You did start it." She pointed out, laughing at him in return, and splashed him again.

"Yes, and now I am ending it." Rumil caught her hand before she was able to complete another attack. He stood, pulling her up with him, fighting a sudden urge to kiss her. "May I have the pleasure of your company on a stroll through the forest?" When Arienta nodded Rumil tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led the way.

As they walked they spoke of many things. Arienta was full of questions, wanting to know every detail of the Rumil's homeland, more than once surprising him with her insight and curiosity. Describing Lothlorien for Arienta, he found, made him begin to view his life in a new light.

"My father was a warden as well. When he was wounded in the line of duty, my parents sailed to the Undying Lands." Rumil continued, pushing a low branch out of their way. "I was still an elfling at the time and did not yet wish to leave the Golden Wood. Haldir was kind enough to agree to take me in."

"He seems a good brother to you indeed. Something tells me you were quite the handful as a child." Arienta smiled.

"To this day there is still a burn mark carefully concealed behind a painting on one of his walls." He glanced around, as though to make sure no one was listening. "Luckily, it is a wall facing the trunk of the tree and so cannot be seen from the ground."

"You live in the trees in Lorien?" she asked, eyes wide with interest.

Rumil grinned. "My recent performance to the contrary, I am quite used to the forest's canopy. In Lorien, the Lady of Light keeps the weather ever fair. Some nights I lay out on the balcony and gaze into the heavens until I find my reverie, and when on border duty, the flets are open to the breeze." Rumil paused, looking ruefully into the dark canopy above. "Lothlorien is a mighty forest, but it is not like this one. There, you can always see the stars, and there are ever songs being sung to their light."

"It sounds lovely, Rumil." A sad smiled played across Arienta's lips. "I wish I could see your home, that I could know what it was like to live in the freedom of the starlight."

As she spoke Rumil's temper began to fray, realizing that she had seen so little, that she was a prisoner in her own home. Finally, he could no longer suppress his anger. "How can he keep you locked away?" The question burst from Rumil's mouth. "Does he not care for you?"

Arienta grew silent and stared at him for a moment. Then she slipped her arm free of his and stepped away, turning her back to him. "He does, Rumil. That is the reason he keeps me so close. You do not know my father, do not judge him." There was anger in Arienta's voice, as well as sadness. She began to tremble; whether from rage or something else Rumil could not say. When she spoke again her voice was calmer. "In truth, I do not know why he keeps me as he does. Legolas has tried to get him to relent, but…" Her voice trailed off.

"Forgive me. I should not speak of what I do not understand." Rumil shook his head and looked at the ground. "I simply cannot fathom what makes this acceptable in his mind."

"According to Legolas, Father fears he will lose me, as he lost Mother. He blames himself for her death. He could not protect her." Rumil stepped behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He could feel how her body shook, and he regretted his words. He remained silent, knowing that she needed to finish. That she needed to share this with someone. He could only hope he was worthy. After a moment, Arienta went on. "The spiders came upon her when she was out. She was unarmed and heavy with child. She only had a small pair of scissors for cutting flowers. She fought as best she could; to protect her unborn child. To protect me. Father came in time to see her stung by the horrible creature." Arienta paused, her voice growing soft and distant. "She had been stung several times already. There was nothing the healers could do. She only lived long enough to bring me into the world."

"I am sorry, Ari. I did not know." Rumil replied softly, gently rubbing her shoulders.

"Do not be, there was no way you could."Arienta shoulders stilled, and she turned to face him. "I did not mean to share all of that. Tonight was meant to be an escape."

Rumil wanted to take her in his arms and soothe away the past, but something told him she did not wish to have another over protective male swoop in to rescue her. Instead, he gave her shoulders a slight squeeze of reassurance. "We all have pain in our pasts. It is how we allow them to affect our future that is important."

Arienta gave him a watery smile. "Your brother does not give you enough credit." She turned back to him, her eyes glistening, though her cheeks were dry. "You have far more wisdom than you let on."

"Do not tell him that. " Rumil grinned rakishly. "If he found out, my duties would double."

"You really are incorrigible." She gave a sudden laugh and began to walk once more. Rumil quickly fell in stride next to her.

The moonlight-dappled path widened as they continued to wander through the forest. As they rounded a bend in the road, the red-gold hint of firelight filtered through the trees from a willow-shrouded clearing. The sound of voices floated on the breeze and together Rumil and Arienta peered through the dense foliage to find a group of half a dozen elves situated around a small campfire. They spoke in bright, merry voices, laughing and jesting with one another, until one pulled out a small fiddle and started to play. With a little urging from one of her companions, an elleth rose to her feet and began to sing a soft, sweet song. The melody carried and drifted through the trees to where Rumil and Arienta stood. The words were sad and strange, about a love ill-fated, yet deeply felt. The others in the circle grew silent as her clear soprano voice filled the air.

Rumil glanced over at Arienta. How he longed to reach for her, to touch that fair skin, to press a kiss to her temple, to those roseate lips! He held himself in check, merely commenting, "A lovely song, meant to be shared." He held his hand out to her. "Would you care to dance with me?"

"I have never danced with anyone, save my brother and father." She looked at his hand, a curious expression on her face.

"Then I would ask all the more for such a gift, my lady."

She raised an eyebrow, her expression amused, yet playfully stern. "Only if you promise to drop the title. I have asked you to call me Ari. Are we not to be friends… Rumil?"

"Very well, then, my l - Ari." He flashed her a devilish smile before grabbing her hands and pulling her closer. "Informal dancing it is."

As they began to move in step to the music, their bodies seemed to find a natural rhythm, the music weaving an enchantment over the forest path as they moved and spun lightly in the velvet moonlight, all cares cast away for this brief, suspended moment in time.


End file.
